This summer we're going on a road trip for two weeks with our three children to Cape Breton. I'm really looking forward to it. But I have done a couple of road trips with children in which I swore vehemently to myself as I was banging my head against the car door that I would never, ever, ever do that again. However, the kids are older now. And I told my husband that it would be fine to do it, as long as we install a three-screened DVD along with a Wii, a PlayStation, and an X-box in the van. And a convenience store. Just a small request.
But I remember what it was like when we drove our five month old son to Florida.
As we set off, my husband said cheerfully, "Okay, let's try to get several good hours of driving in before we stop!" Ten minutes later, we heard a loud explosion from our son. My husband's eyes met mine pleadingly in the rear view mirror. Sympathetically, I shook my head. "Sorry, hon, we have to stop - he pooped through everything, including his overcoat! It's all up his back!"
By Hour 10 my son had thoroughly inspected, chewed on, rattled and waved around almost every toy and book I had packed, even the completely new, never before seen Last Resort Toy. I sang songs until my throat was hoarse. By Hour 12 I was fantasizing about forcing my husband to drive to an airport, so Colin and I could fly the rest of the way.
It got to the point that we began arguing over who got to drive, since the other person had to entertain Colin.
"Honey, it's my turn to drive. You must be exhausted!" I announced to my husband firmly, feigning concern for his well-being.
He shook his head. "No, that's okay...I've still got lots of energy," my husband insisted, although he'd been driving for four hours. He gripped the steering wheel tighter. "Really, I insist."
I gave up being diplomatic. "I'm driving and that's FINAL! Pull over, mister!"
With my husband in the backseat, Colin began wailing. "If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands," my husband sang optimistically. Colin wailed louder. The clapping trailed off. I resisted the urge to giggle. Now it was my turn to grip the steering wheel and surreptitiously turn up the radio. As I avoided mammoth trucks and aggressive tailgaters, I sighed to myself. What a nice break!
When it was my turn to entertain my son again (after a brief but spirited tussle over the car keys in the parking lot of a McDonald's) we had completely run out of diversions and Colin had decided he wanted out of the car seat NOW. I began desperately searching the car for new items. Water bottle, Kleenex, extra diaper, extra clothing... Colin looked at me when the last Kleenex had been ripped apart. He knew I didn't have any more distractions. He began opening his mouth to yell. I looked frantically around the car. Aha - there was one thing left in the car that he hadn't played with yet. Frantically I bellowed, "GIVE ME THE MAP!"
My husband paled. He looked over his shoulder at me nervously. "But honey...we NEED the map."
I scowled at him in the rear-view mirror. "We can buy another! Do you think my sanity is worth more than a map? Don't answer that! Give. Me. The. Map!"
My husband took a deep breath, began to say something, noticed the frenzied look in my eyes, and then silently and reluctantly handed it back to me. There was a brief tug of war before I seized it triumphantly and deposited it in my son's lap. I breathed a sigh of relief as Colin began happily whipping the map around, banging his fist on it and ripping it. I leaned back in my seat. Whew!
"You show that map who's boss, honey!" I encouraged him. "And when it comes back, you show it who's boss again!"
Anyway, the road trip this time will be much better, I'm sure...I'll buy several sets of maps!
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